Unheeded forsaken beauty,
With a faint pale deep-golden countenance,
Looks behind as if annoyed
On going through the dismal experience
Of the day, looking down beneath
Upon the hilarious, uproarious world,
Where upon the several spots
Smoky mushrooms rise,
Wrapping the Earth from all sides around
With sable murky blankets
Impeding lights;
Or of glancing at the spectrums
Of human blood, mixing into mud,
Descends consumed depressed glowering
Deciding not to come back again
Into the aching painful zones;
But the next morn re-ascends
Refreshed with washed features
Radiant, all silvery glaring,
To accomplish the assigned job
Of sweeping the scrap of blackness.
This is how the office of God goes on,
Playing hide and seek
The Dark chases the Light
And the Light defeats the Dark,
As seamen prey upon the shark.
Comments
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This is a poem of immensely deep and broad contemplation, muhammad, and I got immersed in it. It seems to render in startlingly clear images the eternal cycles of light and dark, despoliation of the earth and then its ever rising hope of a new day. I hear the yin of sorrows and wars (those dust-ups like mushrooms and bloody mud) and the yang of humankind's daily hope (refreshed with washed features) - the cycles of death and life.
And then, at the end, bright life triumphs each morning over dark death. But this hope, in the poem, is not naive or foolish: hope lives, but those destructive "seamen" still continue the work of darkness all over again. This is realism at its most insightful, muhammad - the cycles never seem to end, even though each morning brings a bit of hope.
Very finely wrought poem. I enjoyed its thoughtfulness and its realism.
My only stumble: perhaps "beneath" might be better as "below" - just a thought, disregard it at will. I admire the skill and real poetry of this fine work.
Later...
Lad -
You always dig deep within your poems, and again have done that here.
Bring forth wonderful imagery.
A perfect write to me, my friend
Cindy
language: 5, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
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Clearly the images of a Master
"as if annoyed
On going through the dismal experience
Of the day,"
The image of a personified setting sun annoyed at the day goneby gave me pause. I hadn't thought of the day as dismal but then I am not in a part of the world that has so much turmoil.
"sable murky blankets
Impeding lights;"
I have read this as the pollution enveloping large parts of the earth. Light can not beam out or inward through the blanket.
"spectrums
Of human blood, mixing into mud,"
This for me is war summed up in a few words.
"Descends consumed depressed glowering" I really enjoy the idea of a grouchy saddened sun throwing up its "hands" and having had enough of the stupidity of the world.
The poem works for me until the final few lines.
"This is how the office of God goes on,
Playing hide and seek"
This is a brand new metaphor and never alluded to earlier in the poem. What does hide and seek have to do with a world weary sun?
I will have to go to the other site and read others by you. Thank you for sharing your masterful work with us.
Eosmialanguage: 5, subject: 4, tone: 5, form: 5.
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Sadness and Beauty Defining Wonder!
I enjoyed this condensed expostulation of sunset looking down upon the world of humankind, very much, Mr Shanazar. I am so glad you decided to post this on Critical Poetry, and though I seldom delve into the untamed wilds of our lesser sister site, Allpoetry, I will be sure to do so in order to read your other pieces there.
"Unheeded forsaken beauty,"
It does induce melancholy to realize how wonderous nature is so overlooked as we humans grovel with our noses to the grindstone instead of once in while raising our countenances to regard the heavens.
"Impeding lights;"
Light should aid us in seeing, but as you say, too much, or the wrong kind of illumination, (artificial) inhibits/impedes insight.
"Of human blood, mixing into mud"
We are denizens of the soil in tenements of the clay.
The dualism you depict of light and darkness is quite zoroastrian and a deeper understanding of dualism doesn´t necessarily mean things are clearly defined as belonging to two distinct seperate camps as in black/white or good/evil. For me your final line concisely renders this salient image:
"As seamen prey upon the shark."
The seaman is the hunter, the aggressive predator who so often kills sharks (about 100 million each year!) not for food but merely because they get caught up in huge nets that trawl the sea. So who is evil? Indeed as your poem delightfully examines - there must be a balance between light and darkness - a balance humankind continuously, and with disasterous consequences fails again and again to achieve.
I hope I haven´t utterly missed the point here, Mr S.! My views are of course subjective and prone to personal bias.
Warmest regards
gnosisonG
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